


just two kids, you and I

by lcvelace



Series: bang bang (you shot me down) [1]
Category: DCU
Genre: (not made obvious), Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Mob, Bipolar Disorder, Childhood Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mentioned Jason Todd, Mentioned violence, no beta we die like jason todd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 07:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30118932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lcvelace/pseuds/lcvelace
Summary: Dick meets Barbara Gordon at a Gala when he's 10 and she's 12, and they become friends in no time.-“Only name I got,” he smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck lightly. He doesn’t love the way she snickers about it, but she’s got this big, bright smile that seems to mean Dick doesn’t mind all that much.“That’s a stupid name. I’m gonna call you Dickhead!” she declares proudly, as if she’s the only one to have ever thought of such a connection.-This is a part of my batfamily crime au, but honestly Dick and Babs are probably the characters who change the least within that series. Other than a few oblique references, this could be read as canon/a regular no capes au
Relationships: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson
Series: bang bang (you shot me down) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2203557
Kudos: 9





	just two kids, you and I

**Author's Note:**

> title from Mary's Song (Oh My My My) by Taylor Swift

“Why do we have to go?” Dick complains. The 10-year-old is getting tall and gangly and his suit fits him all _wrong_ , no matter Alfred’s repeated attempts to tailor it.

“It’s good for business,” Bruce grunts, putting his hand on Dick’s shoulder as he guides him into the banquet hall. He doesn’t even know what this thing _is_. He sees some faces he recognises from most of Bruce’s boozy, schmoozy events, but there’s also a lot of people here who look like they’d get eaten alive at one of those things. Bruce had explained the theme for tonight, but Dick hadn’t listened. 

Dick isn’t very good at listening. 

Bruce’s grip squeezed his shoulder for a moment to get his attention, and Dick jolts out of his thoughts. He tips his head back to look at the man standing before them. He has an _epic_ moustache, “Dick,” Bruce says, tone lighter in that way he gets around the high society types. It’s not Bruce-like at all, and Dick hates it, “This is Detective Jim Gordon. He’s a close friend.” 

Close friend. Cop. That means this guy looks the other way when Bruce has to put someone in the ground. Dick’s been learning the lingo for a couple years now. 

“Hi, Mr. Gordon. Nice to meet you,” he greets, sticking his hand out with a big, toothy grin. Dick knows exactly how to be adorable when he wants to be. 

“That’s _Detective_ Gordon to you, son,” Jim says as he takes Dick’s hand, but he’s smiling from beneath his thick, totally awesome moustache, so Dick’s pretty sure he doesn’t mean it, “I’ve got a little girl a couple years older than you. Barbara. She’s playing over there,” he guides, which is code for ‘let the grownups talk about grownup things’, and Dick is more than happy to oblige. 

He heads over to the red head girl Jim had pointed out, smiling, “Hey, I’m Dick. Are you Barbara?” 

‘Barbara’ turns to look at him, tilting her head to the side and pinching her lips together. She has freckles, Dick observes. Lots of freckles, like his mom did. He smiles softly at the memory. 

Barbara scoffs harshly, “Your name is *Dick*?” 

“Only one I got,” he smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck lightly. He doesn’t love the way she snickers about it, but she’s got this big, bright smile that seems to mean Dick doesn’t mind all that much. 

“That’s a stupid name. I’m gonna call you Dickhead!” she declares proudly, as if she’s the only one to have ever thought of such a connection. 

Dick laughs with her. 

* * *

Dick slings his arm over Barbara’s shoulder, smiling at her brightly, “Hey red. Long-time no see,” he hums, champagne sloshing around in his glass as he lifts his hand, “I was starting to think your old man was gonna keep you squirrelled away forever.”

Barbara rolls her eyes at him, but it’s a friendly, exasperated gesture rather than one born of genuine irritation, “I was out in Chicago visiting my mom, Dickhead,” she smiles at him, stealing his glass to take a sip and leaning back against him. She fits nicely against him, and he shifts his arms down to wrap around her waist instead. 

“How’s your mom?” he smiles, propping his chin on her shoulder and swaying with her to the music. 

She giggles, lifting her free hand to comb through his hair lightly, “Total bitch, just like always. Mom happy to be home,” she murmurs softly, gasping when he pressed a gentle kiss to the junction of her shoulder and neck, “Dickie…We’re in the middle of a policeman’s ball!” 

“No one’s looking,” he murmurs softly, pressing another kiss against her skin. He still doesn’t know why Bruce insists on coming to these stupid events. They’re boring, and stuffy, and the police are supposed to be their _enemies_ , aren’t they? The only good things about them, really, are getting to see Babs, and the fact that no one seems to notice the 17-year-old drinking his weight in champagne. 

“My father will kill you if he catches us.” 

Dick’s not scared of the commissioner. 

Okay, maybe he’s a little scared of him. He turns her around in his arms and smiles at her gently as he holds her close, “Hey. Something big happened while you were away,” he whispers, “B brought another kid home. Some 13-year-old twerp. Jason.” 

Babs’ eyes widen, “Seriously? What’s he doing, replacing you?” she teases, setting her empty champagne flute down and wrapping her arms around him. He laughs, even though the comment hits a little too close for comfort. He’d run off to San Francisco with Donna and Roy, and when he came back, he’d had a new little brother to deal with. He was still wrapping his head around it, to be honest. She notices she’s hit a sore spot and back tracks quickly, “Hey, Dickie. You’re irreplaceable, promise,” she whispers as she cups his face in her hands, “Give me the word, and I’ll hate this kid on sight.” 

He laughs softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “No Babs, he’s a nice kid. Promise.” 

She hums softly and nods, putting her hand in his gently, “Let’s get outta here,” she whispers, “Screw this stupid party.” 

He grins and lets her drag him out the door and into the blistering Gotham night. 

Neither of them feels the cold at all. 

* * *

“Where is she? What happened? Who did this?” Dick demands as he bursts into the waiting room. It’s 3am, and he knows he must look like a mess. His hair’s all mussed up on one side, his t-shirt half tucked into his sweatpants and one shoe missing. He doesn’t give a damn; he just wants to know who hurt her. He needs to know if she’s going to be okay.

Jim Gordon puts his hand firmly on Dick’s chest; he feels like a little kid all of a sudden, even though he’s taller than the man by a solid foot. He swallows thickly and looks at him, breathing ragged, “Is she okay?” 

“She was on patrol. We don’t know who did it yet, sit down,” he says quietly, and Dick nods as he sinks down into the scratchy vinyl seat. He pushes his hands through his hair and looks at Jim as the commissioner sits down, “She’s not out of the woods yet. They said she might never walk again.” 

Dick swallows thickly and puts his head in his hands, cursing. He swears to god, if it was someone who worked for his family that did this, he’s going to put them in the ground. He’s going to make it _hurt_ , “Told her this job was dangerous.” 

Jim laughs; a sharp, humourless sound that makes Dick swallow anxiously. His throat is dry, and he vaguely wonders when he last drank water. He hasn’t been doing much of anything lately. The call from Jim being the first thing to make him leave his apartment all week, “This city is dangerous, Dick. She knew that when she took the job. She’s too stubborn to care,” he whispers. 

Neither of them speaks again until the nurse comes out. She explains to them gently that the surgery was a success, that the bullet has been removes, but it grazed her spine. She’ll never walk again. Dick’s never seen Jim Gordon cry before, and it’s goddamn _unnerving_ to watch the singular tear slide down his cheek from behind his glasses. Jim gets to see her first, which Dick supposes is fair, so he leans back and watches the 6am news on the tinny little waiting room TV. Babs’ attack is the main story, and it makes his stomach churn as he turns his head away. 

“Dick,” Jim says gruffly, standing in front of him. How long had it been? Dick doesn’t really know. It feels like Jim only just went in, but a cursory glance back to the news reveals it’s been at least half an hour. He nods and pushes to his feet slowly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants as he’s lead by the nurse (a new nurse, he thinks. But he’s never been good with faces) to Barbara’s private room. She’s awake when he steps in, and she smiles flutteringly at him. 

“Dickhead, you came,” she whispers hoarsely, holding her shaking hand out. He takes it gently, pressing a kiss to his knuckles as he sits down beside the bed. 

“Been here all night, Babs,” he promises solemnly, “I’ll always be here.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really love this story. It's not what I was picturing when I sat down to write, but I love it anyway. 
> 
> A small note, because I don't think it came across particularly strongly in this fic. Dick in this verse is bipolar, which will probably come up more in future instalments that include him.


End file.
